


Sunrise, Sunset

by Ice_Rain



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canonical Character Death, Coming Untouched, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s03e05 A Life in the Day, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Flustered Quentin Coldwater, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Mosaic, Mosaic Timeline (The Magicians: A Life in the Day), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_Rain/pseuds/Ice_Rain
Summary: Filled-in scenes of Quentin and Eliot's lives at the Mosaic, from Eliot's point of view.
Relationships: Arielle & Quentin Coldwater& Eliot Waugh, Arielle/Quentin Coldwater, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	Sunrise, Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> The whole A Life in The Day episode is really fantastic as a writing prompt. This has hints of sadness throughout, but there's nothing bad that happens beyond what the episode shows. I hope you enjoy!

“Please please please,” Eliot breathed. He’d just spent an hour laying out a design that he’d spent another two hours earlier that morning planning out. Quentin and Eliot were approaching this puzzle as strategically as possible, only trying ideas that they could come up with a reasonable argument for. Eliot had a good feeling about this design, despite Quentin’s lack of faith.

“ _A sunrise represents a new beginning, like the birth of new life,”_ Eliot had insisted last night. “ _And the Mosaic’s location can’t just be random, the solution_ has _to be somehow related to this spot.”_

 _“El, I’m not arguing with you, I’m just not optimistic enough to wake up 2 hours earlier than usual for it. Go ahead though, it’s as good an idea as anything else we’ve come up with._ ”

And so, Eliot had woken just before sunrise to carefully watch the sun come up, depicting it with the Mosaic’s color constraints as best as he could.

“God damn it!” Eliot shouted when the key didn’t appear after a few seconds. "I'm done," he said, collapsing onto his back in defeat. 

Quentin, annoyingly unfazed and unsurprised, simply said, “Ok, just don’t take it apart until I write it down.”

 _Well_ , Eliot supposed, _time to move on to the next idea._

* * *

“We really need to come up with a better system for keeping track of everything,” Quentin said as he leafed through the huge pile of recorded designs he and Eliot had made in the last month. They were done with the Mosaic for the day and gathering everything up to bring inside.

“Ok, and what do you suggest?” Eliot asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Mmm, there was a spell Alice taught me, if I can manage to remember it. For organizing notes. Uh… one of Cholmondeley’s charms?”

“Q, you’re looking at me as if there’s a non-zero chance I’d know a spell related to _organizing notes_ ,” Eliot laughed.

“Yeah, ok… I’ll try it out tomorrow. I remember the circumstances needed it to be daytime anyway.”

They went inside to make dinner. Well, Eliot made dinner. Quentin mostly watched. Still, it was always nice to have the company. At first Eliot had thought he might go a bit crazy having to live in such close quarters with Quentin, but really it had been great so far, all things considered. He missed Margo of course, but it had been so long since he’d really gotten to spend any continuous amount of time with Quentin. What with Eliot having had to stay in Fillory for so long, and Quentin spending most of his time on Earth. It was nice.

They’d fallen into a comfortable routine. After dinner they’d do the dishes, always using magic, because working on the Mosaic until sunset was more than enough manual labor for one day. Then, Quentin would usually spend a couple of hours reading one of the books that had come with the cottage. Eliot would occupy his time with various activities. Sometimes he’d experiment in the kitchen with new ingredients to plan future dinners, or to attempt discovering a cocktail that would manage to make Fillorian alcohol taste less bad. Sometimes he’d make plans for redecorating the cottage, writing lists of what they’d need to buy in town. Other times he’d sit on the arm of Quentin’s chair and read over his shoulder for a bit, usually whining at Q to just turn the page faster already.

When they’d go to bed, Eliot slept on the left and Quentin was on the right. And even though neither of them was particularly shy with physical contact during the day, at night they kept to their own sides of the bed. 

It was good. It was stable. Eliot was sure he’d get bored of it all eventually, but it wasn’t really clear how long they’d be here anyway. So for now, things were good.

* * *

“Mm ok green. _Green_ ,” Eliot told Quentin, hovering above him on their new ladder and pointing a large stick. It felt good to be in charge.

“Yeah,” Quentin said, grabbing a green tile.

“Yeah, green one there. No no, there. No, _there_ ,” Eliot insisted, pointing to purposefully vague areas all around the same spot, much to Quentin’s increasing annoyance. “Just kidding you had it right the first time.”

“You know what, I’ll tell you where I’ll put this,” Quentin said.

Eliot grinned. “Yeah? Come at me, Coldwater.”

“Peaches, plums?” Well, who was this lovely plot development? Eliot looked over to see a very pretty girl holding a basket. “Arielle,” She said. Eliot glanced at Quentin to see him staring at her, transfixed. God, he was so obvious.

“I’m Eliot, and this is my friend Quentin,” he said, grinning.

“Hi,” Quentin said quietly.

“Oh, this is my helper, Lunk,” she said, kissing an almost comedically attractive man. Looking over at Quentin’s reaction, Eliot couldn’t help but think, _Well, this might be fun._

As soon as Arielle was out of earshot, Eliot started saying, “Well, she was certainly….”

“Don’t,” Quentin cut him off immediately, giving him a warning glance.

“I didn’t even say anything,” Eliot said with mock innocence, climbing off the ladder.

Quentin walked by him to elbow him lightly. And despite the Lunk development, when Eliot looked at Quentin’s face, he could see that he was grinning.

* * *

“I told you they’d have it!” Quentin said for about the third time since they’d entered the woods.

“And, Q, as I’ve told you several times, I admit that you were right.”

Quentin had been talking for the past week about a Fillorian board game he’d read about in _Fillory and Further_. They’d failed to find it in the town nearest to them, and Quentin had insisted they try the next town over. He’d heard about some special toy store there. Eliot had resisted for a few days, mostly because the walk was far and Eliot didn’t particularly enjoy walking, especially outdoors, and _especially_ through the woods, with all of its bugs and plants and, God-forbid, _butterflies_. But then Quentin had announced that he was going with or without Eliot, and well, Eliot figured maybe the outing would be good for him.

They were about halfway back home when it suddenly started pouring rain. And in Fillory, it could rain _hard_ , where the force of the raindrops could actually hurt. It was immediately obvious that this was going to be one of those times. It never lasted for long, but it was still not a pleasant thing to experience. Eliot grabbed Quentin by the wrist, pulling him under a small overhanging rock just off the main path. They stood there together for a moment, Quentin pressed right up against Eliot’s side so they could both stay dry.

After a few moments, Quentin seemed to realize something. “Um, El, you know we could just cast Weizenheim’s First. You know, and not have to stand squished up like this?”

“Now Q, where’s the fun in that?” Eliot asked with exaggerated flirtation, putting his hand on the small of Quentin’s back and tugging him closer. Now, this wasn’t any kind of unusual behavior coming from Eliot. Quentin was used to it. But this time Quentin seemed, well, weird about it. Instead of acting annoyed, or rolling his eyes, or laughing, he made eye contact with Eliot for several long seconds, bit his lip, and then very quickly averted his gaze down and away. Interesting.

Then Quentin started to pull away a bit, and in the process accidentally brushed his hips against Eliot. And Eliot couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn he felt something stiff that was definitely not Quentin’s hipbone brush against him. _Very_ interesting.

“Um, so uh… how long do you think the rain will last?” Quentin asked, as if Eliot could possibly have a better idea than Quentin. “Cuz uh… I mean I could cast it. The spell, I mean. If we want to uh… get home soon.”

Was Quentin _nervous_? Granted, Quentin always stumbled over his words a bit, but this was kind of extreme. Eliot decided to have just a bit of fun.

“Oh, I don’t think it’ll last long,” he said, and he brushed a wet strand of hair out of Quentin’s face, purposefully moving very slowly and letting his hand linger there for a moment. Quentin bit his lip again. And Eliot hadn’t realized it until now, but he’d shifted towards Quentin so their faces really were _very_ close together. Quite a bit more than was necessary to stay under the rock.

Eliot was beginning to realize that, in fact, with Quentin this close to him he was apparently very much not in control of his own actions. Because Eliot had just noticed that his hand had at some point slid down from where it had been lightly gripping that lock of Quentin’s hair, and was now resting fully against Quentin’s cheek. Eliot’s lips parted at the realization and he let out a soft breath that wasn’t audible over the rain, but that Quentin could no doubt feel given their proximity. All it would take was for Eliot to just tilt his head down a bit more, and to lean forward ever so slightly. Quentin was looking straight into Eliot’s eyes, leaning into his touch. 

But then Quentin was suddenly clearing his throat and stepping away from him. “The uh, um… the rain stopped so we should, uh…”

“Right,” Eliot said, carefully keeping his tone as even as possible. Fucking Fillorian weather. “Onwards we go.”

* * *

Things were a bit weird after that. At first Quentin seemed to avoid physical contact with Eliot at all costs. He’d slide tiles over to Eliot instead of handing them to him. He slept slightly further to the edge of his own side of the bed. But then after a few days, for some inexplicable reason, Quentin started doing the opposite.

It started simply enough. Eliot had been sitting at the Mosaic near the end of the day, and Quentin had walked over. 

“Come on, time for you to make me dinner,” Quentin had said. And he’d grabbed Eliot’s hands and pulled him onto his feet. The weird part, though, was that Quentin held onto his hands for about 3 whole seconds longer than he had to. Not that Eliot was counting. And then. And _then_. Quentin had touched the small of Eliot’s back as they walked towards the cottage. And he’d kept his hand there, for like, the entire walk to the door.

Then, the next day, Quentin had walked over to where Eliot was working, sat right next to him – like, _right_ up against him – and actually just wrapped his arm around him while they talked for several minutes. As if that was a thing they just did all the time.

And earlier today, Quentin had supposedly noticed some chalk on Eliot’s face, and then just rubbed it off with his thumb. Like, he’d licked his thumb, and then slowly rubbed it over Eliot’s cheek right near his mouth. Who even did that? Well, ok, that sounded like something Eliot would definitely do. But for Quentin, it was weird.

Now, they were sitting at the picnic table across from each other, eating sandwiches on their lunch break. They’d been reminiscing about some of the First Year classes at Brakebills.

“God, can you believe it’s been so long since we came here?” Eliot said.

“Yeah, it’ll be one year, tomorrow,” Quentin said, his mouth half full of bread.

“Really?” Eliot paused to think about that. “We must have a celebration!”

Quentin chuckled. “A celebration of what, a year of failure?”

“No, Quentin, a year’s worth of possibilities successfully eliminated!” Eliot declared triumphantly. Quentin gave an earnest laugh at that.

“Ok, and what’s your idea for this big celebration? Of our success at eliminating possible success.” Quentin really needed to learn not to talk with his mouth full, although Eliot had to admit it was pretty endearing.

Eliot thought for a moment. “Dinner, out here on the Mosaic, the object of our deepest affections. And drinks! Just you, me, and the Fillorian night sky,” Eliot finished.

Quentin gave him a shy smile. “Yeah,” he said. “That sounds nice.”

* * *

They’d just finished putting the plates away after dinner, and Eliot had brought out the wine and two glasses. It really was a gorgeous night. But then, most nights in Fillory were. Eliot had lit torches surrounding them to add some ambiance. This whole event might have been a last-minute idea, but Eliot had to show at least a little class.

“Happy anniversary, Q. To our first, and last year at this thing.”

They clinked their glasses together and each took a sip. Eliot hated to admit it, but Fillorian wine had actually grown on him. He looked over at Quentin, noticing he seemed a little on edge.

“Hey,” Quentin said, sounding a little anxious.

“Hey,” Eliot replied softly.

“I, um…” and then Quentin was kissing him. Wait, holy shit, Quentin was kissing him. And while that maybe wasn’t an entirely unexpected development, it was definitely unexpected in this particular moment, and Eliot barely had a chance to respond before Quentin was pulling away.

Quentin flailed one hand a bit in the air, as if to say, ‘So, there.’ God, he was adorable. And before Quentin could possibly have a chance to freak out, Eliot covered his hand with his own. He put his other hand on the back of Q’s neck, leaned in slowly, savoring the moment, and finally let their lips meet again.

They kissed like that for a while, slowly exploring each other. And it wasn’t that Eliot didn’t want Quentin’s clothes off, but he also was just really enjoying this. Somehow kissing Quentin like this felt more intimate than pretty much any sex Eliot had ever had. They held hands nearly the whole time while Eliot gently ran his fingers over Q’s face and neck and arms.

When they finally pulled apart, they rested their foreheads together for a moment, and Quentin giggled. Not a laugh, not a chuckle, but a _giggle_. So. Cute. Eliot couldn’t help it, he pulled back and kissed Q right on the nose, paying special attention to the way Quentin’s eyes crinkled when he did it.

“Um, I guess it’s uh, getting late and we should probably…” Quentin started.

“Yeah, sure,” Eliot said.

And they both got ready for bed, just like they usually did. And they both stayed on their own sides of the bed, just like they usually did. But this time, Quentin reached his hand out for Eliot’s, and Eliot took it, and that was how they fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Eliot woke up to find that Quentin was already gone. He looked out the window to see him already dressed, sitting on the Mosaic, looking deep in thought. Oh, boy.

Eliot got dressed quickly and went outside. He sat next to Quentin silently, a few feet away for good measure. They sat there for a few moments.

“Um, so…” Quentin started.

“Let’s just, save our overthinking for the puzzle, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Quentin said, and they both nodded at each other, but Eliot could see a little gleam in Quentin’s eye.

* * *

That night, Eliot was lying in bed waiting for Quentin to come back from the bathroom and turn out the lights. They would always go to sleep at the same time. Quentin finally emerged after having taken forever brushing his teeth, and Eliot started getting himself comfortable under the covers, laying back and closing his eyes. But Q still hadn’t gotten into bed. After a few seconds, Eliot sat up to see Quentin awkwardly shifting on his feet, looking anywhere but at Eliot.

“Uh, Q… you gonna get in or what?” Eliot asked. Quentin looked at Eliot, opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again. He tugged at his bottom lip, working it between his teeth with his lips tightly pressed together.

“Q, come on, it doesn’t have to be weird. We don’t have to do anything, no overthinking, right?” Quentin still looked extremely uncomfortable and made no motion to move. But he was at least making eye contact now. Pretty intense eye contact at that. Wow, ok. Eliot felt a need to look away, yet at the same time found he physically couldn’t, like his brain’s connection to his entire nervous system was broken. He suddenly realized he’d forgotten to breath, like an idiot, and sucked in air with an audible gasp.

After what seemed like entire minutes, but must have just been seconds, Q made his first sound since coming into the bedroom. “Um, I, uh…” And then before Eliot could even register Q moving across the room, Eliot was knocked onto his back with the full force of Quentin Coldwater. Q’s lips had captured his completely in a kiss that was nothing like the previous night. That had been soft, gentle, and hesitant, with Quentin hardly touching Eliot at all apart from their lips. But now, Quentin’s tongue was pushing deep into his mouth. And his hands were everywhere at once. Tangled behind Eliot’s hair, running across his bare chest underneath his shirt, grabbing at his hips, palming between his legs. Seriously, did this man have four fucking hands?

And at the same time as all of this, Quentin was thrusting his hips into Eliot, already hard. And holy fuck it had been less than 10 seconds since Quentin had made physical contact with him, but now Eliot was hard too and actually wondering how the hell he was going to last if this kept going for even a bit longer.

“Q, Q… fuck, hold on, I…” Eliot said, pushing Q off of him just a bit to take a breath, but Quentin just started sucking on his neck instead. And Eliot heard a very high-pitched, loud, broken moan, and it took him a second to realize that he was the one who’d just made that noise. But he didn’t even have time to be embarrassed before Quentin’s mouth was suddenly gone from his neck and had seemingly instantaneously moved to his hipbone. And what the fuck, did this man have two mouths, too?

He was roughly pulling down Eliot’s pants, and without any further ado, took Eliot’s entire cock into his mouth. Eliot’s hips involuntarily bucked upwards as he shouted, “Quentin, fuck, what the… holy…” He was barely conscious of whatever else fell out of his mouth after that. He could just vaguely tell he was shouting, and moving, and he couldn’t control any of it. And after what couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes later, he was suddenly coming into Quentin’s mouth with almost no warning.

Quentin moaned as Eliot came, swallowing all of it and licking Eliot clean. Once Eliot regained a small fraction of his senses, he panted out, “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I mean, I meant to warn you I just… God Quentin.” He was so out of breath he could barely make it through a whole sentence.

Quentin slid up to Eliot, and Eliot started moving his attention towards Quentin’s pants, because Q fucking deserved a blowjob after that, at the very least. But when he turned to look, he saw a huge wet spot on Quentin’s pants.

“Holy shit Q, did you….”

Quentin turned a bright shade of pink and turned away, stammering “Uh… I uh…”

Eliot pulled him by his hair to look directly in his eyes, and said incredibly earnestly, “Q, that’s so. Fucking. Hot. God Quentin, you’re… you have no fucking idea.” And even though Eliot had just come, the knowledge that Q had come just from giving him a blowjob was making him ridiculously turned on, even if his body wasn’t going to be able to get the memo for at least a few more minutes. He pulled Quentin in for a deep kiss.

When they pulled away, Quentin gave him a shy smile, his eyes drooping in exhaustion. Maybe round two wasn’t such a great idea, it had been a long day. Eliot did a quick clean-up spell and laid back on the bed.

“Mmm, we should get some sleep,” he said. But after several seconds, he still hadn’t felt the weight of the mattress shift at all. Quentin was still sitting up. Eliot looked at him, puzzled. And Quentin again was looking flustered, refusing to make eye contact.

“Um…” Quentin started, and then he was nuzzling up against Eliot, his head on his chest and one of his legs thrown over Eliot’s body. Quentin looked up at Eliot, a silent, _Is this ok?_ And my God, this man was just _so freaking cute_.

Eliot wrapped his arm around Quentin and pulled him in tighter, and they fell asleep tangled together.

* * *

The next few days were glorious. At first, Eliot went along with it when Quentin would grab him while he was in the middle of laying tiles or writing down designs, pulling him off somewhere to make out, with the occasional hand job. Against a tree, on the Mosaic, on the table… it was fabulous. _Until_ Eliot realized it was so much more fun to not give in to Q’s demands. The reason being, Quentin had amazing reactions to being denied access to Eliot’s mouth. It was great, because Eliot was perfectly capable of playing the long game. Well, if waiting an entire workday before making out with someone counted as ‘the long game.’ But Quentin, seemingly, was not at all capable of holding out for so long. Oh, he tried his best to hide it, but fortunately for Eliot, Quentin’s ‘best’ in that area was not good at all. Not even close.

And so continued the next few weeks. Eliot was actually having _a lot_ of fun torturing Quentin. He’d make sure to have his hand linger just slightly too long when passing Q a tile, or brush up against Quentin ever so lightly when walking around him to get something off the table. And every time, without fail, Quentin would gasp or fumble the tiles he was holding or just entirely stop what he was doing for a moment to re-center himself. Eliot had never been around someone before who could get so easily flustered. Eliot absolutely loved it.

It’d been about 2 weeks now since their 1-year Mosaic anniversary. Eliot was sitting at the table looking over plans while Quentin was kneeling on the Mosaic, angled slightly away. And Eliot started staring at him, because, well, Quentin would always get super fidgety whenever Eliot gave him attention, and Eliot really wanted to watch him squirm. When Quentin finally looked up and saw Eliot’s eyes focused on him, he fully froze. Eliot made sure to not change his face at all in acknowledgement, just kept staring. Smoldering, really. And Quentin gulped obviously enough that Eliot could see his throat move from 10 feet away.

And then Quentin looked almost… mad? He stood up, walked over until he was right in front of Eliot, and actually stomped his foot. God, could he be more adorable? Eliot kept his face as neutral as possible.

“I know what you’re doing, ok!” Quentin accused, sounding annoyed.

“Why, whatever do you mean Quentin?” Eliot replied evenly.

“God, you… you _know_ , ok. And we have to finish this, and it’s just… I can’t, fucking focus, with you staring at me like that.”

Eliot shrugged. “I’m just looking at the design you’re making, it helps me come up with ideas.”

“Bullshit,” Quentin said, his voice louder, running his hand through his hair. Huh, was he actually mad?

“Q, you ok?” Eliot said, a bit softer than before, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I just… I…” and then Quentin was in his lap straddling him, his lips moving ferociously against his own. And Eliot was a little confused, but hey, he could roll with this. He immediately felt that Quentin was hard, pushing into his thigh. Eliot loved how easily Q would get turned on. But almost as soon as Quentin had started kissing him, he was pulling away.

“I just… I’m just so. Fucking. Distracted by you. All the fucking time. And I can’t…” Quentin laughed a bit, almost, but not quite, sounding bitter. His hands flailed around in true Quentin fashion. “How the fuck am I supposed to focus on solving this puzzle when I get hard like, any time you’re within 5 feet of me? Which is like, always.” He let out a huff.

Well, damn. Eliot knew he was able to have an effect on Quentin, but _that_ was more than he’d realized. He couldn’t help the huge grin that was spreading on his face.

“It’s not funny, El!” Quentin whined. He hid his face in Eliot’s shoulder, and Eliot could barely hear the muffled, “It’s fucking embarrassing.” And, well, that just made Eliot smile wider. He tucked a piece of hair behind Quentin’s ear and rubbed his back in soothing circles.

“Well, I’m very sorry that I’m apparently so attractive I’ve caused you to suffer from a permanent boner,” Eliot said, unable to not laugh at least a little while saying it.

“Shut up!” Quentin said, standing up and turning away.

“Are you actually upset about this?” Eliot asked more seriously, getting up and putting his hand on Quentin’s shoulder. “I can stop, you know, if you really want. Maybe I’ve been… coming on too strong with all the flirting. We can, I don’t know, work at different times or something?”

“That’s completely ridiculous,” Quentin groaned. “I should be able to… I mean I’ve never had this… extreme of a problem before with…” he waved his hands around. “Distractions like this,” he finished lamely, resting his hands on his hips. 

Quentin actually sounded fairly annoyed with himself, veering on upset. And Eliot was trying so, so hard to fight the smile that kept tugging at his lips. Because, I mean, this was probably the most flattering thing anyone had ever said to him.

“Hey, look at me, Q,” Eliot said.

“That’s kind of the problem,” Quentin muttered. He was so fucking adorable. Eliot laughed softly.

“Just look at me,” Eliot said again. And when Quentin turned, Eliot took his hands softly in his.

“It’s totally normal to be distracted, Q. Look, it’s been a year since either of us so much as even kissed anyone. For a year I watched you bending over the Mosaic, and imagined bending you over myself, doing all kinds of things to you.” Eliot had leaned close to Quentin, mouthing over his neck without quite touching it. He murmured the rest into his ear. “And now I get to do that all the time. And if it means we’re more distracted,” Eliot slid a hand down to Quentin’s hip, “then so what? Maybe it takes… all kinds of life experience to show the beauty of all life.”

Quentin was breathing very unevenly from the close contact, but still managed to get out, “If you’re saying the beauty of all life is some kind of visual depiction of an orgasm…”

Eliot laughed. “I mean, who’s to say really.” He let his lips close gently over Quentin’s earlobe. It was the lightest touch really, but it made Quentin whimper. Eliot grinned, and gently pulled Quentin by his hand towards the cottage.

The next day, Eliot spent an hour creating what he considered to be a well-proportioned, anatomically correct depiction of a penis on the Mosaic. Quentin tried his best to act disapproving. In all honesty, it was pretty shocking it’d taken them over a year before trying that particular design.

* * *

“You should go for it,” Eliot said one day. Arielle had just left from bringing them their weekly supply of peaches and plums.

“What?” Quentin asked, turning away from gazing after Arielle to look at Eliot.

“Arielle. You obviously like her,” Eliot said while fishing through the pile of tiles for a yellow one.

Quentin blushed a bit and looked at the ground. “I mean… yeah, so what, I might have a tiny crush. But, El… I’m happy. Really. Besides, she’s with Lunk anyway. _”_ Quentin and Eliot could never say the name ‘Lunk’ very seriously. Eliot always referred to him as ‘Lunk the hunk.’

“Q… “ he walked over to Quentin, putting his hands on his arms. “I don’t have a problem with it. And you’ve always wanted a family. You know I can’t give that to you…”

“I just said I’m happy, ok?” Quentin snapped. Eliot was stunned for a second.

“Ok…” Eliot said, unsure where that had come from. And if Eliot was secretly a bit relieved at Quentin not wanting to pursue her, well, he made sure he didn’t show it.

Quentin spent the rest of the day in a bad mood.

* * *

“It’s just, El, we’re clearly not getting anywhere. There’s a stupid amount of combinations, there’s no secret code in the directions, no shortcut. We’re going to spend our whole lives here and we _still_ won’t have solved it. We can’t just keep putting our lives on hold indefinitely like this.”

“Right. Putting your life on hold. That’s what this is to you,” Eliot spat out. Frustration had been building between them for a while now, and Eliot was tired of pretending everything was fine. Apparently Quentin was too. 

“Eliot, come on, you know what I mean.”

“No, you know what, no Quentin. I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know what the hell _you’ve_ been doing, but _I’ve_ been _living._ In a magical forest, breathing air filled with fucking opium, spending every day with my best friend, knowing that I’m working on saving magic for the entire fucking world.” But even as Eliot said it, he couldn’t help but let a bit of sarcasm drip into his voice. He was fully aware their situation was far from perfect. But it still hurt to have Quentin say it so bluntly.

“Yeah, your best friend. That’s exactly what I am. Because you never fucking let me call you anything else, even though…”

Eliot interrupted as Quentin’s voice raised, not wanting to address _that_ particular issue. “You’re unhappy here. Fine, I get it. And you can be mad at me all you want. But…” He took a shaky breath. “We could be done tomorrow for all you know. We can’t just throw away all this time we’ve invested. You want to live your life, live it here.” He turned away from Quentin, walking over to the table.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know _exactly_ what that means.” Eliot looked down at one of the papers on the table, pretending to study the design while taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

He heard Quentin kick over a stack of tiles and spun around immediately. “Oops,” Quentin shrugged, and he turned and walked into the forest. 

* * *

A couple days later, Quentin asked Arielle out on a date. Eliot wasn’t surprised. He also wasn’t surprised by how much it stung.

Eliot and Quentin kept their distance from each other that night when they went to sleep. It wasn’t entirely unusual. They didn’t have sex every night, and they didn’t even always cuddle. But it felt different tonight. The bed felt bigger than it ever had, the space between them like a gaping hole Eliot didn’t dare fall into. It took hours for Eliot to finally fall asleep, wondering if he’d ever get to kiss Quentin again, or ever even get to hold him again.

* * *

“You know, Arielle knows. About us. She’s cool with it, really,” Quentin said casually, as if he was just informing Eliot about the weather. It had been a week since Quentin and Arielle’s first date. Things had been strained between Eliot and Quentin. They’d at least started cuddling in bed again, though it wasn’t quite like it had been before. 

“And what does that mean, exactly?” Eliot asked carefully.

“It means,” Quentin said, coming to sit right next to where Eliot was kneeling on the Mosaic, “that this is ok.” Quentin ran a hand through Eliot’s hair and brought his lips to hover just a centimeter away from Eliot’s. And Eliot wanted to give Quentin a harder time, feeling like they should probably talk more considering they’d just had their longest fight since being here. But Quentin’s lips were right there, and Eliot had missed them so much. He’d missed all of Quentin so much. He gave in immediately.

* * *

After a month of dating Arielle, Quentin had decided it was time for her and Eliot to spend some actual time together. He was inviting her to dinner.

“It’s fine, El. I want to cook.”

“Quentin, honey. If you cook tonight, we both know you’ll scare that poor girl away forever. Please let me. Besides, I need to make a good impression.”

Quentin mumbled something incoherent but didn’t protest Eliot’s point.

It turned out, to Eliot’s surprise, that Arielle was actually pretty awesome. Eliot had expected a generic, perfectly polite but not-so-interesting girl. To be honest, that’s what he’d expected of Fen when they’d gotten married. But, just like Fen, this girl had turned out to have personality and character and a sense of humor that complimented Quentin and Eliot’s very well.

Quentin walked Arielle home that night, and he didn’t come back until the next morning. And if it took Eliot an extra hour to fall asleep, well, that was just because he wasn’t used to the way the mattress felt with only one person on it.

* * *

Quentin and Eliot had gone to the town market for supplies. When they’d first arrived in Fillory, they would only go once a month or so to stock up. But after realizing how long they might be here, they’d started going once a week or so to talk to the locals. In the two years since they’d first arrived, they’d managed to make a couple friends. Well, more like acquaintances. But they were people they liked well enough to have over for dinner occasionally.

Quentin walked over to Eliot right as he was finishing haggling for some squash. He was usually able to get a pretty good price from this particular vegetable stand.

“Thanks, Ronald, as always,” Eliot flashed Ronald a charming smile as he and Quentin turned to leave. Ronald leaned against the wall of the stand and waved.

“You know he’s totally into you, right?” Quentin asked, elbowing Eliot in the side as they walked away.

“Quentin, that’s ridiculous, Ronald is just friendly to all his customers. It helps him sell more stuff.”

“Eliot, you’re not just any customer. He’s been to our house. Twice. And last time at dinner he literally fed you a tomato. Like, placed it into your mouth.”

Eliot paused for a second. Huh, that had happened. And Eliot had thought nothing of it at the time. Well, that was interesting.

“Ok, fine, you might be onto something,” Eliot said quickly. “But I don’t think he’s really my type.”

“Eliot, he’s like, super hot,” Quentin said, sounding confused.

Eliot was actually confused too, though he didn’t want to show it. To be honest, he hadn’t thought about fucking anyone who wasn’t Quentin since arriving here. And Ronald was actually pretty damn close to what Eliot would usually have described as his type, though Quentin probably wouldn’t know that.

Eliot forced a teasing smile. “Well, why don’t you fuck him, then? I’ll wingman you! I’ll tell him you just _need_ to try a free sample of his radishes. I’m sure I can get him to pop one into that cute mouth of yours.”

Quentin blushed a little, and Eliot wasn’t sure if it was because of what he was insinuating with Ronald, or him calling Quentin’s mouth cute. “El, stop,” he laughed. Then he looked at Eliot a bit more seriously. “You know you can date other people, right? I mean, it doesn’t have to be Ronald but… I want you to be happy.”

Eliot smiled softly. “I am happy,” he said simply, and kissed Quentin right there in the middle of the market. He mostly even believed it.

* * *

A few months later, Quentin proposed to Arielle. Eliot insisted on throwing them an engagement party. He really went all-out, setting up a big tent, hiring one of the bands that sometimes played in town, and arranging catering from the first restaurant Quentin had taken Arielle to. Details like that were important for something like this. He had maybe spent more time than was strictly necessary making all the preparations, but Eliot was just detail-oriented when it came to events. And who was he to step away from such a decent distraction from the Mosaic’s monotony? Among other things.

Eliot got completely shitfaced at the party. Really everyone got fairly drunk. Eliot was talking to one of the band members who played some kind of funny-looking string instrument that probably had an equally ridiculous name. The band member himself was named Tom and seemed to have a very deep knowledge of Fillorian folk lore.

“And then, thanks to the gnomes, she was finally able to catch the double-horned unicorn!” Tom finished. “It’s supposed to have happened really close to here – there’s a statue to commemorate it. You’ve seen it right?”

“No, I don’t believe I have,” Eliot replied, trying his best not to make the obvious joke of this double-horned unicorn being pretty horny. He wasn’t particularly interested in folklore, and really didn’t have the brain capacity at the moment to remember half of what Tom had just said. But he had to admit there was something endearing about Tom’s energetic storytelling.

“Really? But it’s so close! I can show it to you!”

“I don’t go into the woods much, not exactly one for hiking,” Eliot said by way of explanation. “But sure, I’d love to see this statue… thing.” 

Tom lead Eliot a few hundred feet into the woods, until they got to a small clearing.

“The moons are really pretty tonight, aren’t they?” Tom said. Eliot looked up. He really didn’t look into the sky very often, despite it looking so fascinatingly different than Earth’s. Maybe he should do that more with Quentin. Stargazing out on the Mosaic. 

When he brought his head back down, Tom had gotten really close to him. They both stood there for a moment, then Tom brought his hand up to Eliot’s face and leaned in.

The kiss was perfectly fine. It was fairly chaste for a few seconds, and Eliot’s drunk brain reacted to the touch almost immediately, automatically opening his mouth to allow Tom’s tongue to slip in. But after a few more seconds, Eliot’s stomach dropped. Something about this felt so… wrong. He pulled away gently.

“You are truly stunning,” Eliot said to Tom. “But, I think we should get back to the party.”

Tom looked a bit disappointed for a moment, but then gave a small nod and followed Eliot back to the party tent. Quentin saw Eliot coming out of the forest with Tom and immediately raised an amused eyebrow, obviously assuming something had happened. Eliot responded with a cocky grin. There was really no point explaining anyway, might as well play along.

The party started to die down, and Eliot went inside when maybe half the people had left. He would clean up tomorrow. Quentin would be spending the night at Arielle’s, so he let himself spread out on the middle of the bed on top of the covers. He lay there awake for a while, trying not to think.

* * *

“We can just set up a fold-up bed in the living room, Q, it’s not a big deal. We have the same schedule, so it’s not like I’ll be bothered by anyone moving around in there while I’m asleep. And it’ll fold right up so we’ll have the same amount of space in the daytime.”

“El, you shouldn’t have to sleep on a fold-up bed in your own home,” Quentin said, crossing his arms. “We have a month before the wedding, we can build an extension into the cottage, another room.”

“Q,” Eliot said, “It’s really fine. I like our cottage the way it is,” Eliot moved toward Quentin, wrapping his arms around him. “I want to keep it the way we found it.”

Quentin was quiet for a minute, considering this. “Ok, fine.” He tilted his head up toward Eliot. “But you have to promise that if you end up not liking it, you’ll tell me.”

“I promise, Q,” Eliot said, kissing the top of Quentin’s head.

They went shopping the next day to find a fold-up couch. “This one seems nice,” Eliot said, looking at a small but high-quality loveseat with a foldout mattress.

“It’s nice, but it’s like, super small,” Quentin replied.

“Well then it’ll fit easier in the living room. We might not even have to get rid of any of our furniture.”

“I don’t think two of us would even fit on it,” Quentin said, circling it to evaluate its size.

Eliot stilled and was quiet for long enough that Quentin looked up at him. “What is it, El?”

“I mean… you’ll be sleeping with Arielle, so it doesn’t really matter how many people can fit on this,” Eliot said slowly.

Quentin’s face fell. “El…”

Eliot quickly added, “I mean, of course I would be honored to be invited to you and Arielle’s bed for certain… activities… That is, if you think she’d be into that sort of thing,” Eliot waggled his eyebrows, trying to lighten whatever had happened to the mood. “But she’s going to be your wife, Q, of course you’ll be sleeping with her.” Eliot shrugged as if that was that.

Quentin didn’t move from where he was standing. He looked almost stricken, which didn’t make sense to Eliot. They’d both known for a while Eliot would be moving to a different bed, there was nothing new here.

“El… just because she’s gonna be my wife doesn’t mean I never want to sleep with you.”

Eliot felt a mixture of conflicting emotions at that, which he immediately pushed down before he could dissect any of them. Instead, he gave Quentin a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and said as casually as he could manage, “Well, I suppose we can get rid of our current couch to make space. To be honest, it is getting a bit worn out. How about this one over here?”

Eliot quickly walked over to evaluate the other couch. Quentin stood in place for another minute before following.

* * *

“Wow, Arielle, this is absolutely delicious,” Eliot said, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Usually Eliot made everyone dinner, but Arielle had insisted on doing the cooking tonight.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you knew how to cook like this, honey!” Quentin beamed at her, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Well, I wanted to do something special, because…” she looked at both of them, biting her lip and fighting off a smile, “I have an announcement!”

Eliot grinned and leaned forward, resting his head in his hand with his elbow on the table. “An announcement, well that’s certainly exciting.”

“I’m pregnant!” She squealed. Quentin’s face lit up immediately.

“Oh my God, really? Seriously? Arielle, sweetie, this is so amazing!”

“Congratulations!” Eliot smiled at the two of them, a genuine smile. He loved seeing Quentin this happy. But at the moment, he didn’t really know what to do or say. Quentin was touching Arielle’s stomach and they were kissing and hugging, and Eliot didn’t really want to intrude on the moment. But he felt like he was being weird by just sitting there, so he stood up and gave Arielle a big hug, resting his hand on Quentin’s shoulder afterwards.

“And Eliot, of course he’s going to be your son just as much as me and Quentin’s,” Arielle said earnestly, looking Eliot right in the eyes. “I mean, if you want, of course. I think you’ll both be such great dads!” Eliot really did like her.

“Son?” Quentin asked, raising an eyebrow at Arielle.

“Just a feeling,” Arielle shrugged with a smile.

“Well, this calls for a toast,” Eliot announced. He went into the kitchen and started pouring some wine, realizing just in time that Arielle couldn’t actually have alcohol. Fortunately, they had some fancy peach juice that Eliot poured for her instead.

He took another minute before returning to the dining area. You couldn’t quite call it a dining room, since it was just a table a bit offset from the living room. Eliot was going to be a dad. Well, for some strange definition. Fortunately, he’d gotten a mini practice run with Fray, so the idea didn’t completely horrify him as much as it had when Fen had told him she was pregnant. But he was still pretty damn terrified. Still, there was no way he was going to ruin tonight by freaking out.

He walked back into the dining area to toast, and then Quentin led Arielle to their bedroom quickly after. “I love you so much,” he heard him say to her as they closed the door. And Eliot tried not to think about the fact that Quentin had never actually said those words to him.

* * *

When Teddy was born, everything changed and nothing changed. Eliot and Quentin still worked away at the puzzle, and they still all largely went through the same routines, albeit with some child-oriented additions. Only now, Eliot felt like his heart was truly full in a way he hadn’t realized it even could be.

“Teddy, pass me a green tile, would you?” Eliot asked. Working on the Mosaic with Teddy’s help was a bit slower, but he was always so excited to be useful. And his attention would only stay there for about 15 minutes anyway, so it wasn’t like much productivity was lost.

They finished up their current design, waited their usual 5 seconds for the magic key to appear, and, upon nothing happening, as expected, cleaned up quickly.

“Hey Teddy, how would you like to pick where the colors go?” Quentin asked after the board was cleared. Eliot glanced at Quentin, the two sharing a grin. Teddy nodded excitedly.

“It’s a very important task,” Eliot said seriously. “Do you think you’re ready?” Teddy nodded again, grinning even bigger than before.

“Ok, you just shout out a color, and we’ll put them down,” Quentin said. Doing this particular design took about three times as long as usual, and the end result was a very, shall we say, abstract piece. But afterwards, Eliot waited an entire 60 seconds for the key to appear before going inside to make dinner. Because if anything was going to be the beauty of all life, it would be this.

* * *

“You know I love you, right?” Quentin said to Eliot. It came out of nowhere. It was one of the now-rare moments where it was just the two of them outside, toiling away at the Mosaic. Usually at least one of Teddy or Arielle was out there with them, mostly due to how cramped the cottage could feel, especially on a hot day like today.

Eliot looked up and tried to hide his surprise. After a beat, he gave Quentin a soft smile. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.” Quentin gave him a cute little nod that reminded him of how Teddy would look when he’d finished a task he thought to be very important. And then Quentin got right back to work, like nothing much had happened. Eliot went back to work too, but he didn’t stop smiling for a long time.

* * *

The house felt so empty with only three people. It was odd, Eliot thought, since it had never seemed empty back when it was just him and Quentin. But without Arielle…

Teddy didn’t seem to fully understand what it meant that his mother wasn’t there with them anymore. No one had ever prepared Eliot for how to explain death to a child. They ate that evening in near silence, no one really sure what to say.

Eliot could tell Quentin was on the verge of a breakdown, but he hadn’t cried yet, at least not in front of him. That was probably because Eliot had been with Teddy the entire time, and Quentin wouldn’t want to upset Teddy. Kids were strange that way. Eliot had found that if Teddy fell and got hurt, the more cheerful Eliot acted, the less likely Teddy was to cry. Maybe it would be like that with this, too. 

“Um, hey Q,” Eliot touched Quentin’s shoulder lightly after they’d put the plates away. “Do you want to be alone tonight, or do you want me to stay with you?”

Quentin looked at Eliot for a moment, considering. “I think I’d rather be alone. I’m sorry, I just need…”

“Hey,” Eliot said, bringing Quentin into a hug. “That’s fine, Q. I’m here if you need me.”

It wasn’t until a few days later that Eliot saw Quentin cry. Teddy was busy playing with tiles, so Eliot went over to sit next to Q and just held him for a long time. Quentin didn’t say anything afterward, he just got back to working on the Mosaic. And Eliot understood the need for the distraction. 

* * *

“Do you think he’ll be ok?” Quentin asked Eliot at dinner. Teddy had just left a few hours ago, off to become an apprentice and explore the world away from their small town.

“I do,” Eliot said simply. There was no doubt in his mind. “He has your heart and your bravery. That’ll get him far.”

Quentin smiled. “And he has your confidence and composure, thank God for that.”

Eliot placed his hand over Quentin’s. “He’ll visit soon.”

“Yeah.”

“You know,” Eliot changed his tone, “We finally have the house completely to ourselves.” 

Quentin grinned. “A very astute observation. Well, I’ll be in the bedroom, just in case you need me. Your turn to do the dishes.” And Quentin sauntered away in the exaggerated way he knew Eliot found hilarious. This would be a fun night. 

* * *

“What do you like most about summer?” Quentin asked Eliot. Q was up on the ladder while Eliot made the design. Eliot had to admit, he felt like he was getting too old for this. Human backs were not designed with this many years worth of bending over in mind. 

As Eliot thought about Quentin’s question, he was suddenly, forcefully, reminded of a time long ago when someone else had asked him the same thing. Margo. His best friend.

“Do you ever think about them?” Eliot asked, instead of answering Quentin’s question. Quentin didn’t seem to mind the abrupt change in topic, although Eliot’s question was so vague the new topic wasn’t particularly clear.

“Our grandkids?” Quentin asked.

“No, our friends. From our lives before,” Eliot said.

Quentin thought for a minute. “I dream about them sometimes.” Eliot nodded to himself. He dreamed about them sometimes, too. He tried to imagine Margo as old as him. She would have aged far more gracefully than him, he imagined. She would never stop looking fabulous.

“It would be nice to get to see them, one more time,” Eliot said. In his, shall we say, advanced age, Eliot had become more accustomed to just saying whatever popped into his head. There didn’t seem to be any reason not to.

“Mmm,” Quentin hummed in agreement. “What do you think Margo will do, when she gets magic back?”

That’s right, getting magic back. The reason they were doing all of this. Strange how Eliot could forget that so easily. The Mosaic had just become their lives, the reason for doing it as natural and unconscious as breathing.

“She’ll kick that Fairy Queen‘s ass, and then she’ll become the best ruler Fillory’s ever seen. Much better than I would have been. Still would be nice to get to see it though.” To see _her_. God, what would she say if she could see him now? He saw the teardrop land on the tile before he registered that it had fallen from his own eye. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how much he missed Margo, or because he was realizing how infrequently he thought of his previous life at all. 

* * *

It was a bit foggy today, but the sun was still shining through pretty brightly. Eliot and Quentin had spent about two hours finishing a design from the night before. It didn’t used to take them this long, but, well, old bones and all that.

“You know,” Quentin said, “that must be like, the hundredth variation we’ve tried of a sunrise. I’m starting to get the idea that that’s not the answer.”

“Maybe,” Eliot began, settling into the wooden chair next to the Mosaic, “the answer is a sunset instead.”

“Uh huh, the difference being…” And then Quentin and Eliot both burst out laughing. Eliot thought to himself, they really could have gone in the opposite direction, growing old to become bitter and frustrated with the lives they’d come to accept. But they’d really both become pretty darn happy in their old age. Eliot was able to laugh at the stupidest, smallest things with Quentin. And he found joy in such simple things, like just looking at the scenery, eating breakfast with Q, and creating yet another design out of the tiles he now knew better than his own hands. Eliot truly felt lighter now than he ever had before. He also felt tired. Maybe a quick nap wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Eliot watched Quentin as he started cleaning up their latest sunrise, thinking back to the first one he’d made on the Mosaic so long ago, and let himself drift off to sleep. He didn’t wake up.


End file.
